


Confusion

by Dr_Mini_Me



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Magical Accidents, Memory Magic, Mentor Severus Snape, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape Lives, Sirius Black Lives, duh - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:34:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Mini_Me/pseuds/Dr_Mini_Me
Summary: Amelia wakes up with the mind of a 22 year old in the body of a 24 year old with Madam Pomfrey and her slightly creepy ex potions professor staring at her. She thinks it's 1997 and theres a war happening, but imagine her surprise when she hears these three things.1.) It's 1999.2.) They won the war3.) She actually married her old potions professor.OrA story in which Severus Snape gets a happy ending that's taken away, thanks to a kid's terrible charmwork? I promise it's given back again.





	1. Chapter 1

I rubbed my eyes, trying to scrape away the sleep that had found its way onto my eyelashes with a bit of a groan. Sounded like the neighbours next door were at it again, screeching up a storm that threatened to get me up and about for good. 

"Ah!" I hissed slightly at the feeling of something sharp cutting across my eyelid and pulled my hand away. Blinking slightly with one eye and keeping my injured one shut, I eyed my hand for the offender.

I'd expected to find a hang nail or maybe a bit of dry skin that'd decided to get a tad prickly with my lack of moisturising habits. What I didn't expect to find was a dainty looking ring. I peered at it, furrowing my brow as I brought it closer to notice a blue stone amongst the silver metal. 

"What even?" I frowned at the bit of jewellery, wondering how it'd found its way onto my finger. 

"She's awak-"

"I can obviously see that my wife is awake, thank you."

I paused at the sound of a female voice that oddly reminded me of Madam Pomfrey's nasally tone. The fact that it sounded so bloody close as well as the fact that a tetchy man had cut her off gave a bit of a fright. 

Slowly, but surely, I let my eyes leave the ring to spot that I was in fact  _not_ in my own bloody bed. Nor was I even in my own house with a couple of burglars, something I'd have liked better than being in Hogwart's hospital wing. 

I stared at the face of Hogwart's medicinal matron for a good second before I stared into the eyes of my old potions professor, Severus Snape.

"Okay," I nodded at them, scratching my thigh absent-mindedly. 

Something weird is going on right now and I couldn't tell if I was dreaming-or if I was actually sitting in my alma mater's hospital. The last thing I recalled was going on an Order mission with Mara Everlowe to search for survivors after the Death eaters had attacked homes. If I'd gotten hurt, why would they have brought me  _here?_   Wasn't that like the exact opposite of a good plan? 

"Mia?" Snape came closer.

I eyed him with some confusion as he approached me like he thought I might actually reach out and bite his hand off. I'd gotten over my dislike of the bloke after I figured out exactly what part he played in the Order's business-still a little intimidating when he used Mara's nickname for me though. 

"Where's Mara?" I frowned, glancing away from the two of them to see walls of white fabric separating my bed from the others. 

"Poppy? Wh-" Snape stopped at the foot of my bed, turning back to Pomfrey. He sounded nearly as confused as I was, but also vaguely nervous. Okay, the nickname had been intimidating, but the thought of Severus Snape- _the_ Severus Snape-being nervous had me terrified. 

"What spell did that boy use, Severus?" Well then. Seems they were both ignoring me-that's fine. 

"It was supposed to be a simple memory charm-that's all." His tone turned heated now, as I turned back to stare at the pair of them. 

"Did she lose her memory?" I raised a brow, determined to be included in their conversation again out of frustration.

She was a good friend, probably my only friend at this point-I wasn't terribly good at actually making friends. Mara and I had met on the train and thankfully, she'd spotted my poor introverted self and swept me up with all of her talkative friendliness. I had a right to know if she was okay, or if she wasn't. 

"No..." I'd apparently grabbed Snape's attention with that question as he turned to stare at me. His eyes always held a certain cold sadness to them, I'd noticed that ages ago. But, this sadness was different. It was seemingly warm, something I hadn't expected him to even be able to feel these days. 

"What then?" I almost scoffed at them, annoyed with their lack of answers and concerned faces. 

* * *

 

Have you ever wondered what would happen if someone decorated a home exactly as you would?

Assuming they were you, but not  _you_ now. A different you. A you that was older-like two years older-and married your old potions professor, apparently. A you that had lived through the second greatest wizarding war, and a you that was also a charms professor. 

Honestly, the only things that made sense to me out of all that was the charms professor bit. I'd always been awful at potions and I wasn't sure why I ever thought sunshine yellow pillows matched a mauve sofa. 

I found myself sitting on this stupid sofa nonetheless, staring at what I had to assume was also my home. Bookshelves hid away most of the dungeon's stone walls and a few picture frames could be found on some of the shelves. But, I didn't dare stand up to glance at them. 

It felt...weird being in Snape's quarters. Weird despite the fact that there were some incredibly feminine touches inside it that were obviously not his choice. I knew the ring that tried to gouge out my eye earlier meant that we probably shared these quarters, but the current me didn't feel like I lived here. 

"Why'd we pick the dungeons?" I pondered out loud to my silent staring husband.

"You claimed that the sun tried to burn out your eyeballs in the mornings." He nodded at me before brushing back some of the black hair that'd fallen into his eyes from his jerky movements. 

"But, my apart-" I began with a hint of doubt, my apartment's windows didn't face the morning sun. 

"Ravenclaw. You were head of Ravenclaw and as such, you resided in Filius's old quarters." He cut me off quite snappily, as though he was frustrated to have to answer questions about things that should've been obvious to me. 

"Right." I nodded, pursing my lips out of frustration. I'm sure this was all stuff that was 100% obvious to the other me-the me that also thought yellow and purple were great together. She must've been barmy. 

"So..." I leaned back, awkwardly pushing myself between the pillows. "Do you sleep on the couch often?" 

He raised a brow, "no. Why do you ask?" 

Ah, that sparked a reaction. I nodded, "I was just wondering why we have so many bloody pillows on this thing." 

"You-um..." I peered at him for a moment, watching the conflicted confusion drift across his face. "I'm not actually sure why you kept buying those." I turned my gaze down to the seven pillows that took up most of the seating space and pursed my lips in thought.

"Me either. They're rather ghastly looking."

Maybe I just really liked pillows for some reason, or maybe I wanted to see how many pillows it'd take before Snape forbade all pillows. The second one sounded more likely, I sort of wanted to continue to buy pillows now. 

We sat in silence for a good minute while I continued to stare at everything around me. I was trying to soak it all up, maybe something would spark my memory, just enough that it wouldn't feel so hazy and distant.  

Suddenly Snape stood and seemed to float towards the bookcases, picking up various objects as he went around the room. I curiously watched him from the sofa, feeling too out of place to get up and see what he was up too. 

I mean-he was supposed to be my husband, right? It's not weird to gawk at your husband when you're in your own house. Is it? I'd never been married and I couldn't recall a time that my mum or dad called each other out for starin'.

Well, I couldn't recall being married.

I glanced down at my ring finger for a moment, yup. Still married, apparently. 

I looked back up when two feet in black socks came into my peripheral vision. I followed the feet up to his hips and torso in what looked like a set of black suit pants and a tunic.

I found his face staring down at me with raised brows and immediately felt like I had to justify my staring, "what? Can't a wife stare at her husband?" 

For a moment there, I wasn't sure if he'd killed me or if perhaps I was dreaming. Mainly because I swore I saw the hint of a smile twitch upon the corners of his lips as he slowly crouched down in front of me. 

"Here." He held out a worn down looking book to me, with only a hint of pain on his face. I made a mental note that he probably had old man knees, the kind that crackled when he got out of bed in the morning. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

I found his face staring down at me with raised brows and immediately felt like I had to justify my staring, "what? Can't a wife stare at her husband?"

For a moment there, I wasn't sure if he'd killed me or if perhaps I was dreaming. Mainly because I swore I saw the hint of a smile twitch upon the corners of his lips as he slowly crouched down in front of me.

"Here." He held out a worn down looking book to me, with only a hint of pain on his face. I made a mental note that he probably had old man knees, the kind that crackled when he got out of bed in the morning.

I took it from him, chancing a glance away from his face towards the book he'd distributed into my hands. It genuinely took me a moment before I realised this was my journal-the current me, anyway. I'd been sure that I had made an entry into it only a few days ago, but then again my few days ago was apparently years now.

"It's your journal. You-" My eyes found his again as he gave a rough clearing of his throat, and idly I wondered if he could do with some water. "You wrote in it until you ran out of space, about a year ago."

I nodded, wondering if I'd ever allowed him to read it or if my privacy charms had held in place. Of course, I supposed those were immaterial now since they'd only ever been in place in the event that I was captured.

"I don't know what you wrote about, Mia. But, you wrote often." He declared unceremoniously before moving away from me to take a seat at a desk. It's top was covered in an inordinate amount of papers, one piece of furniture that I hadn't noticed before he sat at it with his back facing me.

I glanced back down at my journal, noticing it looked a little more tired than I recalled, before I looked back up to see his back was still turned. I suppose this was his way of informing me to read it in minimal privacy, perhaps he just wanted his wife back. I wouldn't blame him.

Tapping on the cover exactly four and a half times while I muttered my own opening sequence, I opened the cover itself and spotted my first entry. It didn't take me long to flip through until I came upon a date that I had previously thought to be in the future, but was now obviously in the past.

_28.05.1997_

_Mara and I have found so-so few survivors. It's depressing. Absolutely gutting to have to return to headquarters with absolutely zero good news. I think the worst part was stumbling onto a nursery that lacked the infant but held a mother's empty body._

_I can't tonight. I just can't imagine informing the order of yet another empty handed journey._

_30.05.1997_

_I couldn't write again after last night's meeting. Mara couldn't look me in the eye either, not that I wanted to see just how gutted we were. I thought it would get easier seeing the empty eyes of people we could have saved, but it hasn't. It won't._

_We were informed of special plans that were upcoming, no one is quite allowed to know exactly what those are. Well...we actually weren't informed-officially. I just happened to have heard a hint of something between Dumbledore and the bloody dungeon bat. All very hush-hush, I assume._

I let out a little snort at that, okay. So, I wasn't completely different than I'd been two years ago-I was still me in some sense of the word. A bit of wooden creaking and the feeling of eyes on the side of my face told me that Snape had heard me. I paused, pretending I was still reading the pages until I heard a little more creaking and assumed he'd continued whatever he was up too. 

_01.06.1997_

_We celebrated Sprout's birthday-late, but better than never right? Plus it'd boosted morale...possibly not the only thing it boosted. Guess who found herself waking up to the dungeon bat? Yeah. _

_I told Mara I couldn't have too much, but she insisted. We couldn't mope around forever, she said-it'll be fun, she said. Well she wasn't greeted by absolutely horrendous morning breath and a naked arse being poked with his-nope. I can't do it. I can't even write it. All those years of wondering if perhaps the man was more gifted than just potions, I didn't mean to find like quite like nearly being skewered before the sun rose._

_30.06.1997_

_I know it's been a while, but I seem to only find myself writing when my mind just cannot make sense of what it's been given._

_Dumbledore is dead._

I paused at this, holding the book a little closer to my face, as though the words were doctored-even if they looked exactly like my own hand-writing. It can't be true. No. I frowned to myself, setting the book down slowly onto my lap as I considered the events of my current day so far. 

Woken up, yup. 

Nearly had my eye taken out by a ring, check. 

Informed that Mara was alive and well, working as an auror, indeed. 

Got carted back to the dungeons, yes. 

Snape gave me a book, my own book-somehow-yes to that one too. 

Read said book, pretty sure I did. 

Dumbledore is dead, no. Can't be true. 

I cleared my throat, closing the book as my mind felt as though it'd had more than enough of a walk down memory lane for the day. That was utterly impossible. He  _couldn't_  be dead, right? He was Albus bloody Dumbledore, the damned man cheated death nearly as often as Harry Potter. 

I picked my head up, glancing to Snape, "is Harry Potter dead as well?" 

He carefully put down his quill and I suddenly had a swirling wave of nausea in my stomach, I think I regret asking that now. Maybe I didn't want to know. We just had a whole war, right? How many others had died? How many people that I saw just yesterday die while I forgot their memory? 

"No. Albus, Moody, and." He stopped for a moment, gauging my expressions-likely pondering if he was about to break my little brain with the news of the dead. I didn't care if he did, I needed to know and so I gestured for him to continue with a wave of my hand. 

"And Fred Weasley died." He seemed to have finished, watching me still as I digested in the information with my frown deepening.

"Oh." I muttered it, as though we were just discussing dinner plans or a shift in the weather. I hadn't been close with many members of the Order, but I could remember their faces as though I'd seen them all just a few hours ago. 

"Mia-" He started, standing and I held up a hand as I focused on sealing up my journal once more, "please don't call me that." 

I looked back up to see his face somehow pale further, a flash of hurt and shock creased his eyes and mouth as his lips fell into a straight line. Inexplicably, I felt a sudden urge to reword my statement-to make it less harsh and cold as it seeing his face fall. 

"It's not that I-I dislike it," I started again, standing up as well with my hand still held out with the need to soothe the wounds I'd just seemingly caused. 

"It's just that, um-" I continued, but he cut me off with a hint of a sad sneer, "it's just that you don't know me anymore." He finished with an almost imperceptible sagging of his shoulders and I swallowed once more. Merlin, I'm an arsehole. He was supposed to be my husband, and even if I didn't know him right now-I obviously agreed to marry him for  _some_  reason, right? 


End file.
